Best Mores Poems
Why would God give moray eels
A life wherein they live concealed
In a beautiful, bountiful, rapturous reef
Merely to cause the nearby fishes grief?
When the moon and stars shine deep at night
Giving profiles to fishes in background light,
The morays watch and wantonly wait
Until their prey cannot escape.
Are morays just spokes in God’s wild wheel?
Do moray’s consciences not guilt feel?
What is their purpose? What is their ploy?
Is it just to consume those they destroy?
Where is their justice? Where is their joy?
What gives morays the right to annoy
Nearby fishes and affect their fates
While they wantonly lay in wait?
Why would God create such evil creatures
When others’ fates fear their cruel nature?
And why keep morays in ravishing reefs?
Do these evil eels provide the reefs relief?
Is a mindless moray like an inane man
Who bends people’s mores when he can
To languish their lives and besmirch their souls
Just to achieve his iniquitous goals?
"What a Lark"
I used to be inspired once
like a lark beating it’s wings
higher and ever higher into a
golden and blue eggshell sky.
Hailstones hit me
during ascension
and I’ve fallen
into steep decline,
lying on a pavement somewhere
where bystanders walk by
ignorant and blind
to this broken
once shiny-winged lark
who sings no more
only breathing out shallow stories
bleeding into the right-hand margins
of a page, in a final chapter with no lines,
it's not lore.
Written on the body
deep under the skin
where no one else can see me
save a person pluck each feather out
and make them as their quill,
you could try to find a story there
if you dare -
then go ahead
and dip your chosen quill
in the heart inkwell
of this Lark,
and continue writing for her
with her magic blood from heart
to your heart,
but not in spite;
The Lark’s story
bleeds into that spartan white page
with no lines
except those damn margins
are keeping everything in
so tight and refined;
the rules are the margins
that require erasing
by and by.
There is a white page
begging to be coloured
with beautiful visages and rhymes
with more than what is read
you may find a story there my friend -
it’s of smoke and mirrors, grit and city
flights of love and
mores the pity
betrayal and disloyalty
and lies the hailstones hit
but they’re melting to invisibility
when the Sun shines out it’s ****
and she's remembering now
all that is hidden beauty in her dreams
as her eyes close softly lit.
The Lark lies on the pavement
breathing her stories out
into the Etheric Plane
bit by bit,
but no one holds the key yet,
to her Very Sacred Script.
A big black cat strolls ever closer by
arching his back he sees The Lark
and wonders why she don’t cry,
spill her guts;
He is drawing ever closer now,
so close he can feel her breath
and he reaches out a paw
"silently amuse me", he purrs, "just a little tweet",
A muse silently and slowly awakes
to touch his claw with her beak
and she tries
to taste the sweets.
Lovejoy-Burton, December 2017.
FOOTLES FOR THE BIRDS AND THE BEASTS -
Bad-ass old bear:
Grizzly
Grizzly
Dachshund making critical life choices:
Eenie
Weenie...
Cougar from Arizona:
Yuma
Puma
Cowardly Cock-a-Doodle-Doer:
Chicken
Chicken
Slave Driving Beaver:
Dam it
Damn it!
Aptly named female feathered friend:
Robin
Robin
Alaska poacher gets mauled by a:
Polar's
Molars
Overweight Terrier:
Porky
Yorkie
Scavenger Mores:
Vulture
Culture
After sex, bears often share a:
Yogi
Stogie
Neutered Tomcat:
Benign
Feline
Wolf in Sheep’s clothing:
Mutton
Glutton
Proportionally, male Dachshunds have:
Teenie
Weenies
(But size isn't everything)
.........................................
RANDOM AND RATHER REDICULOUS FOOTLES -
Overweight law enforcement official:
Whopper
Copper
Overweight Janitor:
Whopper
Mopper
Spaced-out church officer:
Freekin’
Deacon
Church officer forced to depend on Depends:
Leakin'
Deacon
Unhappy restaurant client:
Diner
Whiner
Cosa Nostra restaurant special:
Mobster
Lobster
Yep, you guessed it. A criminal Crustacean:
Lobster
Mobster
Why did she slap me? All I did was:
Toot her
Hooter
Careless Urologist:
Pecker
Wrecker
I like to start each day off right
With buttered toast and marmite
A vegetable extract that you spread
Across the surface of your bread.
So what’s in it, what does it contain?
Well thiamin, niacin and riboflavin
With B twelve vitamins and folic acid
The details you'll find on its yellow lid.
Also contains barley; wheats, oats and rye
Love it or hate you've just got to try
There are mores uses apart from toast
Like on potatoes with your sunday roast.
Or on crackers with your favourite cheese
I guarantee your taste buds you'll please
And maybe you like stew in cold weather
Add some marmite and it will taste better.
Or a tasty hot drink that'll keep out the cold
A strong savoury taste; it's pure black gold
There's much goodness in one small jar
But do use it sparingly and it will go far.
So the next time that you go out to shop
Look for a black jar with a bright yellow top
After your first taste you'll want more
You'll wonder why you didn't try it before.
Written 11th July 2021.
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It was not so
It was not so
Before the invasion of the vultures
In those days
When being black makes us thick
When our communion whispers across oceans
When our ties thrust distrust
When our dreams were dreams
When our groans frighten their gods
When our cowries outweigh their currencies
But now,
The invasion of the vultures
Mocked our mores
Crucified our tradition with their crusades
Barter our black gem for arms
Conscript our angels into prostitution
Littering our minds with the doctrines of servitude
It was not so
With their holy writ they stabbed us
It was not so
Before the invasion of the Vultures.
awoh kingsley awoh
Stripped bare, my garments fall to the ground...free,
I expose my scars like medals gleaming.
In the moon's glow, I rediscover me.
The crowning moon lights my path. Then, soaring,
nature exhorts...the fertile earth bearing
fruit like a mother awaiting. I pray
for a stellar reception, an array
of constellations dancing on bare skin.
Stripped of mores below, I long to allay
my burdens by exposing scars within.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, April 17, 2012
for YOUR BIRTHDAY SUIT Contest (Cyndi MacMillan)
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Most exorbitant in glitters!
O, Divine blessing from above!
Rainbow of multiple colors
And symbol of love!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
A universe, in you, I see,
With its vivacious forms and shapes;
Endless beauty in highest glee,
In you, like landscapes!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Herald of true transformation!
Envoy of great comfort and hope!
Tale of total liberation!
Zodiac in lope!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Image of joy and hopefulness!
Representing undying love!
To express pure auspiciousness,
You're flown like a dove!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Sing of souls and resurrection!
Endurance! Metamorphosis!
Conversion! Transfiguration!
Constance marvelous!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
In a world of cares and worries,
You teach humanity calmness;
Eternally lasting mores
Amid mousiness!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
I so much yearn to be like you,
To live my life flawlessly here;
Flying... forgetting every woe,
Fearless; full of cheer!
Beauty of beauties! Butterfly!
29 December 2021
''B'' Forms, 10 Plus lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
My Autumn
Spring and summer are mostly for the young,
when ideals and mores are upon us strung.
Now is the Autumn of this woman's life,
a passing through childbirth and being a wife.
Now do my beloved rains begin with showers,
and through the woods, I brave the green towers.
I have loved Autumn rains from childhood to now,
spending hours seeing the trees sway and bow.
My beloved is the place where nature sings,
I revere all the beauty that she sweetly brings.
Give me not a public-house or sprawling mall...
give me an Autumn rain and trees so very tall.
True love does not care
True love is a dragon sleeping deep within the realms of our souls
Hibernated until awakened by its other half
Once alive it is an uncontrollable beast on the hunt
It destroys any notion you have held of love before
True love is simple and uncomplicated
True love is a creator of lives
And a destroyer of worlds
True love does not care if you are in the middle of a life
It will wreck you with its single mindedness
Those who judge have never felt true love
Or were lucky enough to find their other half first
True love does not care about weddings and appearances or social mores
True love cares about proximity
True love is a consumer
It devours time with fantasies and dreams
It takes in years as quickly as a mortal second
True loves thirst cannot be quenched
Once you have drank from truest love's lips
nothing will ever again quell the hunger
True love does not care about feelings
True love does not care about the pain of others
Only stopping the aching from separation of its other half
Only a human being is ignorant enough to slap the gods in the face over their gift
Only an arrogant human would fight a feeling so strong
Are we noble for hiding our pain for the sake of others
Are we lucky to have found each other and known truest simplest happiness for the briefest of times.
Are we lucky because our paths crossed and we were able to experience each other
Were we lucky to have made a connection so deep that most will never understand
Or are those who have never experienced the excruciating pain and joy of true love luckiest
To lead a life of quiet happy contentment or know the taste of the person put here for you.
Traveling through the jaded discourse
With bartered pen and little remorse
Brandishing sharpened scalpel; tour de force
Unabashedly seeking all texts from lexicon to divorce
Developing underlying themes to alter the broader context
Freely abridging each verse to establish the pretext
Isolating each stanza to create a subtext
Inferring connotations to establish a hypertext
Disassociating words to broker more inflection
Delinking phrases building new bridges for reflection
Deconstructing patterns to sculpt out a new direction
Decoding mores and values to foster introspection
Voiding punctuation; compressing verses to scuttle metric time
Extrapolating dominant motifs to devalue the inculcating paradigm
Decoupling dissonant accents to deflower the sublime
Erasing phonetic schemes; disbanding symetrical order; decelerating rhyme
"Images"
The God that never was, puts one shoe on at a time
And spends four hours in the make-up room
Putting on mascara and eye liner for the darker look
Occult man of seemingly rebellious nature
Is deified by the masses that show up to performances
He, a man of strong portrayal even at a skinny 155 pounds
Grows stronger with every compact disc sold and the overuse of base
Blowing out of a sound system which rocks the car next to you
While you wait for the light to turn green
Abandoning social mores of quietness well into the night
The appeal grows everyday for a man really just making a living
Out of his fans age group they have no idea what he is
Whether the media builds him up or tears him down
As a good guy to hate and a bad boy at heart
Any press is good press, though infamy might be better for sales
Topping the charts and making parents sick of his songs
He is a beneficiary of childhood splurging and so inclined to be
The adults wish for a mere fifteen minutes of his fame
So their children would listen to them with the same respect
But who were they when listening to cassette tapes?
And the bands of the eighties put on make-up then
A man of mixed persuasion people are drawn to his ambiguity
The role model singing about jail time and Hennessey
A toughness to some is a weakness to others
It makes you wonder if the man knows who he is!
Whoever that is and for all it's worth
There will be more than enough of him to go around
In his image that is larger than life
Johnathan, Innsley, Marie, and Paul ---
Tom, Trish, Bea, and Jack: all of them.
Black, white, asian; Jew, gentile, zen...
Sex, art, love, mores revolved,
entering ever-shallower circles of discovery.
Clear ice cubes clanked on glass;
religion, sex, quality imported Scotch
and Cuba made the rounds.
Conversation calmed, each with his own idea:
the ultimate word.
Fake furs, donned, drifted into oblivion.
Feeling alone, J. C. cleaned up.
From the dulled Johnson's Wax luster
on a genuine Duncan Phyfe table,
his distorted rumpled reflection
stared up at itself.
J. C. looked away, noticed four new white rings,
picked up a soiled Canon towel,
and wiped away three beads of water,
a few ashes, and himself.
My 60’s
My 60’s
meant childhood.
Unaware of changing mores
or real significance of
Kennedy’s assassination,
three sisters
and I
were transplanted
to Mom’s childhood Iowa farm until
she remarried. Though poor, we had
good times!
Our family,
now ten souls, adapted, struggling, while
soldiers fought abroad. Civil unrest was
little known to me. I enjoyed
summers, friendships, radio, kiss in ‘69 -
Moon walk/ childhood’s end.
Free love, hippies, LSD
eluded me.
I thrived!
By Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by nette onclaud's Contest:
"Magic of Decade's Moods"
#WestfieldMarion
You’re trying to seduce me
with your bright lights
and shiny floors
your promises
of an abundance
of ingredients
for my happy
forever-mores.
But leave the children be
like that little girl
holding Mother’s hands
in her LED lit shoes
that squeak
as she skips
beaming with delight
beneath the neon brands.
For you’ve played your part in my history
helping to shape
my past and present futures
you gave me Herbie
my driver’s licence
my enduring career
these magnificent wings
the endless frontiers.
But I will not be seduced
I will remain resolute
immune to your charms
even as you play my sentimentalities
presenting long lost friends
presenting past passionate lovers
I shall not succumb
I’ll… oh. mmm,
what magnificent scented balms…
SOCIETY - OUR SOCIAL WORLD
To a little girl, a pink dressed doll and cooking-set to play
To a little boy, toys are guns and cars they say
I am not raising a debate- right or wrong, yeah or nay
Through socialization, they are taught to behave this way
Yarn of established norms, codes, values and mores
Spun with religion, tradition, culture, customs and chores
On which are printed motifs of economy and institutions
Mirror-work of magic, science, superstitions,illusions
Embroidery of kinship,marriage,family and community
To weave a grand functional fabric in a loom called SOCIETY!
Date: 27th September 2016
Contest Name-What Is Society?
Sponsored by-Ir0nic ZiNk